Read Online Bloodline (The Forgotten Origins Trilogy) by Tara Ellis - Free Book Online
Authors: Tara Ellis
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school and sit there for a moment, looking at each other in silence. There’s nothing more to say. We’re in a situation beyond our control and all we can do is hope things get back to normal before it gets worse.
Unbuckling, I slide across the seat and hug him. I don’t try and tell him it’ll be okay; he wouldn’t believe me. Instead, I promise to be right here when school gets out. He hugs me back and bravely jumps down from the truck.
Watching him walk away, my chest gets heavy and I realize how much I love my brother. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect him. Shaking my head to clear it, I pull away from the curb.
EIGHT
I slide into my first period English seat just as the final bell rings. At the head of the class our Principle, Mr. Sailor, isn’t looking good at all. He’s written on the board that our regular teacher is out sick.
“Okay everyone, quiet down!” Glaring sternly at those of us in class, he coughs into the crook of his arm. “I’ll be teaching class today. I know things are a bit…chaotic, but let’s try and stick with the schedule as best we can. There are several substitutes here so I expect you to be on your best…” coughing again, this time more violently, he halfway stumbles over to the desk in the corner and sits down.
A chiming over the PA system signals the morning announcements. We sit through the regular chatter, say the pledge of allegiance and then fill Mr. Sailor in on where we left off Friday.
While reading the next chapter in the currently assigned, typical classic novel, I take the opportunity to look around the room. Close to half of the normally full seats are empty, and of the kids that are here, it looks like a lot of them are in various stages of this flu. I wish once more that I had a mask.
The rest of my morning classes are much the same. Two out of the four teachers are gone, and one of the remaining ones is obviously sick. There are lots of questions as to why we’re even bothering with school, but no one has the answers.
At lunch time, I get my food and then try to sneak out to the courtyard and as far away from everyone else as possible. Nearly to my goal, I spot Chris walking up quickly to me.
“Alex!” he calls out, even though we’ve already made eye contact. “Why don’t you come sit with me?” Unsure for a moment, I decide there’s really no point to evasion anymore. I am surrounded by this virus, probably literally covered in it. If I’m going to get it, there isn’t anything I can do about it now. I follow him back to a nearby table and take a seat.
There are only two other kids eating with us, neither of them friends of mine. Chris tells me their names, but I quickly forget them. I just want to talk with him about my Dads book, having come to the conclusion that he may be the only person here I can confide in.
Eating slowly, I try to pay attention to the small talk around the table, smiling and nodding at what I think may be the right times. I don’t really hear any of if though. The constant noise that’s always in this room fills my head, and the smell I have come to lovingly think of as the ‘cafeteria funk’ assaults me. I can’t take it anymore. I have to get outside.
Chris has stopped talking and is staring at me. I must not look well, because he seems concerned. Dropping what remains of my sandwich, I stand up and nearly fall backwards over the seat. “I have to get outside,” I tell him, walking blindly towards where I think the exit is.
I’m aware of his hand on my elbow, and I’m grateful for his help in finding the door. I haven’t had an attack of claustrophobia in years, but I suffered through it long enough to recognize the symptoms.
Trying to slow down my breathing, I sit on the bench outside in the sunshine that Chris leads me to. Once out in the open, I immediately begin to feel better and
Unbuckling, I slide across the seat and hug him. I don’t try and tell him it’ll be okay; he wouldn’t believe me. Instead, I promise to be right here when school gets out. He hugs me back and bravely jumps down from the truck.
Watching him walk away, my chest gets heavy and I realize how much I love my brother. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect him. Shaking my head to clear it, I pull away from the curb.
EIGHT
I slide into my first period English seat just as the final bell rings. At the head of the class our Principle, Mr. Sailor, isn’t looking good at all. He’s written on the board that our regular teacher is out sick.
“Okay everyone, quiet down!” Glaring sternly at those of us in class, he coughs into the crook of his arm. “I’ll be teaching class today. I know things are a bit…chaotic, but let’s try and stick with the schedule as best we can. There are several substitutes here so I expect you to be on your best…” coughing again, this time more violently, he halfway stumbles over to the desk in the corner and sits down.
A chiming over the PA system signals the morning announcements. We sit through the regular chatter, say the pledge of allegiance and then fill Mr. Sailor in on where we left off Friday.
While reading the next chapter in the currently assigned, typical classic novel, I take the opportunity to look around the room. Close to half of the normally full seats are empty, and of the kids that are here, it looks like a lot of them are in various stages of this flu. I wish once more that I had a mask.
The rest of my morning classes are much the same. Two out of the four teachers are gone, and one of the remaining ones is obviously sick. There are lots of questions as to why we’re even bothering with school, but no one has the answers.
At lunch time, I get my food and then try to sneak out to the courtyard and as far away from everyone else as possible. Nearly to my goal, I spot Chris walking up quickly to me.
“Alex!” he calls out, even though we’ve already made eye contact. “Why don’t you come sit with me?” Unsure for a moment, I decide there’s really no point to evasion anymore. I am surrounded by this virus, probably literally covered in it. If I’m going to get it, there isn’t anything I can do about it now. I follow him back to a nearby table and take a seat.
There are only two other kids eating with us, neither of them friends of mine. Chris tells me their names, but I quickly forget them. I just want to talk with him about my Dads book, having come to the conclusion that he may be the only person here I can confide in.
Eating slowly, I try to pay attention to the small talk around the table, smiling and nodding at what I think may be the right times. I don’t really hear any of if though. The constant noise that’s always in this room fills my head, and the smell I have come to lovingly think of as the ‘cafeteria funk’ assaults me. I can’t take it anymore. I have to get outside.
Chris has stopped talking and is staring at me. I must not look well, because he seems concerned. Dropping what remains of my sandwich, I stand up and nearly fall backwards over the seat. “I have to get outside,” I tell him, walking blindly towards where I think the exit is.
I’m aware of his hand on my elbow, and I’m grateful for his help in finding the door. I haven’t had an attack of claustrophobia in years, but I suffered through it long enough to recognize the symptoms.
Trying to slow down my breathing, I sit on the bench outside in the sunshine that Chris leads me to. Once out in the open, I immediately begin to feel better and
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